Flâneur - Paris

PROLOGUE

“If you are lucky enough to have lived in Paris as a young man, then wherever you go for the rest of your life, it stays with you, for Paris is a moveable feast.“

Ernest Hemingway

A multitude of images fill my aimless strolls as I wander through the neighbourhoods of the Left Bank, across the bridges of the Seine, along the big Boulevards and down the small cobbled streets… Some, I manage to capture, conveying them to black and white, encapsulating them into the frame of the lens; I tame them and unburden them of their veils. Yet, most of the images are lost, and with them the magic of the moment. And so, I am enraged, I hold my self accountable, I sulk and then… then, I smile. I smile, because I feel that, although those moments might have been lost, they are not gone for ever. I know that I will come across them again and again.

Thus, I continue to wonder endlessly; to saunter, to follow the smells, laughter and looks, because Paris continues to be for me a “Moveable Feast”, in the same way as it had been for Hemingway during those interwar years, where he lived and loved Paris forever. A “Moveable Feast” he called it; a festival, starring all of us and the Clown. The Clown, with his big drawn on smile and the sad eyes who, no matter what life may throw at him, he does not stop living, laughing, loving, hurting and falling in love…

S. Vergos

Ablezed
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